In the Neptunian Marsh

Last Monday, as I wandered through the streets of Palma de Mallorca, Spain, it struck me that once again I was in the perfect place for a Neptune station.

At the last Neptune station, in November, I had been wandering through the foggy streets of Amsterdam, a city of water with its beautiful canals and dreamy sensibility. Now, here I was in Palma, a city on the Mediterranean Sea, wandering through a medieval maze of streets and getting glimpses of the harbor filled with sailboats and ships of all kinds.

I'm getting good at these Neptune stations, I thought to myself...

On Tuesday, I flew back to New York. My already-extended 12 hour flight was supposed to be in two legs: Palma to Dusseldorf and then to New York. But the second leg of the flight was cancelled, leaving me to scramble through the airport to find a new flight (an experience made much more difficult by the lack of information) and to try to recover my luggage (hours spent waiting, in vain - it's still missing). I'll spare you the details, but it was pretty bad. I eventually got a flight to London and then to New York (on British Airways, bless them).

My 12 hour journey wound up taking 20 hours, most of which was spent in a state of stress, as I ran through airports like one of those dreams where you are running as fast as you can, but not getting anywhere.

My point? I'm not presuming on my skills with Neptune stations anymore.